4 Soldiers in Arms
by M.E.R.C. Inc
Summary: Four soldiers, left for dead by their superiors, must fight their way out of a city swarming with infected. From Mercy City to New Orleans, each man will face trials of the end, and all will win or all will perish.
1. Case Zero

The editor, bathedinblood, would like to extend a solemn thank you to all who read this tome of unreal awesomeness. The author would say something, but he is currently locked in a closet. The editor claims no responsibility in this circumstance.

The author would like to say that I am not in a closet but am a good writer and I appreciate my editors "words of wisdom" but I must say that I helped write this but the majority of the writing goes to my editor but the idea behind it is mine.

A.N. II music for this part should be Mad World.

October 25th, 2009

It started out as a common cold. A food and water-borne illness that brought on coughing, nausea, and in severe cases, vomiting. The symptoms would afflict the victim for a day or so, then clear up. No one thought much about it. Several announcements were made, but no distinctive action was taken. Until 10/16/09.

Case zero, a Nebraska man named Chris O'Donnell, went to the doctor on October 11th, complaining of coughing and nausea. The doctor checked him out, and concluded that he merely had a twenty-four hour bug. Mr. O'Donnell was told to take it easy, drink plenty of fluids, and he would be fine in the morning. Chris went home and did just that, staying at home with his three year old daughter, Krysta. The next day, he was fine. He did not, however, go to the same Cheesy Burger restaurant again.

Several days later, October 13th, Chris did not report to work. No one had seen him anywhere, and he hadn't called in sick. His best friend and co-worker, James Rodrick, went to Chris's house to check on his friend after work. When he knocked, there was no response, and the lights were dark inside the house. James found Chris's truck still in the garage, and next to it, and ajar garage door. Curious, James went inside the house.

James looked around the house, checking the kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, etc. There was a puddle of red-tinted vomit in the bathroom floor, but little else denoting the presence of another person. James was about to give up when he heard a noise come from Krysta's room. When he opened the door, he was shocked to find Chris O'Donnell feasting on his three year old daughter, blood running down his nightshirt. When James called out, Chris's yellow eyes fell on him, and he attacked James. The two fought, and in the process James was bitten on the arm. He fled the house in terror, running to the police station.

When he got there, he was immediately taken behind the main desk for a bandage and some water. He vomited blood-tinted bile just before entering. After he and two officers went into the office, it was silent for a while. After a few minutes, yelling was heard. When another officer opened the door, he was attacked by James Rodrick, portraying the same manic expression and hunger that Chris O'Donnell had.

All across the world, people weren't reporting in for work. Many infected started acting strangely, gibbering without sense, and attacking – and more importantly, biting – their co-workers, friends, and families. As of October 11th, 2009, at approximately 1432 hours, the Plague of the 21st Century had begun. Healthy humans ran from their fellow Americans, only to be tackled, bitten, and turned. A few were so unlucky as to run into a mob of infected that, rather than being turned, they were eaten alive.

The armed forces took action, setting up barricades and deploying riot police. But the infected weren't unhappy rioters; they were bloodthirsty monsters. After losing Chicago, San Francisco, Washington D.C., New York, and other centers of population, the government made a hard choice: take those that they had, and create a safe zone. But that required leaving a good 30% of the American population at the mercy of the infected. Helicopters were loaded up, walls were built, and Area 51 became the most populated area in America, in less than a month. But let us turn back time, and focus on Mercy City, a metropolis just west of Chicago. A tale of survival, combat, betrayal, and death leads from Mercy City to the blood drenched streets of New Orleans. A tale of a handful of humans, a couple guns, and roughly half a million victims - err, infected. The stage is set, the curtains drawn. Let us see how Lt. Lawing leads a rag-tag group of people from damnation to salvation, one thousand corpses at a time.


	2. 4 Men

4 Soldiers in Arms

Four soldiers left for dead by there superiors fight there way out of a city taken over by the dead. (Everyone will get paired up. No slash!)

A.N. song Mad World

O.C.'s in order of ranks First Lieutenant Lawing, Warrant Officer (WO1) Curtis, Staff Sergeant Jenkins, and Corporal Yakob. (females are unnamed as of now.)

Prologue- 4 Men

Mercy City

Oct. 25th, 2009 (using the dates in games on the walls.)

An abandoned intersection sat in the darker metropolis of Mercy City. Cars lined the curbs, some with smashed windows, yanked open doors, or detonated airbags. Some of them still held drivers, although the people strapped in weren't necessarily amongst the living. Every corpse that had the misfortune to be killed had been picked clean, pale skeletons of bone and scraps of skin. Their empty eye sockets gazed forward indefinitely, their lip less grins bared for none to see. Several street lamps were busted out, the cause unknown, but the lack of light only added to the gloomy atmosphere. A feeling of death hung around the area.

But the intersection wasn't as deserted as it first seemed. From a darkened doorway, four men made their foray into the night.

A taller man lead the way, an M-4 assault rifle at his shoulder, prepared to administer death to any curious threats. His head was protected by a woodland-painted helmet, a dark green dome that kept his brain in his head. His torso was protected by a flak jacket and a tactical vest, the interlocking nylon providing sound protection to all but rifle fire. Emblazoned across the man's chest was the name 'Lawing', and his helmet sported the single silver bar of a lieutenant. His face was obscured by a standard issue gas mask, two large, dark glass portals shielding his eyes from the rest of the world. The filter protruded into two valves, both pointing downward. Slung across his back was an M-21 Sniper Rifle, a semi-automatic rifle good for counter-sniping and urban environments. At his right hip was an M-9 handgun, safely nestled in its holster. His legs were covered by standard BDU's, and he sported several flak packs that served as armor. His feet were encased in shin-high steel toe boots, with a knife hilt just visible on his right calf. Lt. Lawing's profile just screamed 'Fuck with Me and Die'.

Just behind Lawing was shorter, stouter soldier, whose helmet was bare of any markings. He too wore a gas mask, but painted across the forehead in red paint were the words 'No Mercy', an addition against regulations. He carried an M-4 as well, but strapped to his back was his secondary weapon, a Remington 1100 tactical shotgun, better known to police forces around the world as the 'Street Sweeper'. Its semi-automatic firing mode and ten shell capacity made it a deadly force in close quarters. A long fighting knife, roughly eight inches long, sat on the right side of his collarbone, well within reach. He bore a Chief Warrant Officer insignia on his collar, an encircled vertical bar denoting his proficiency with a certain trade. Just below his rating was the name tag, with 'Curtis' stenciled in white. He carried not one, but two M-9 side arms, and had a utility belt of ammo to supplement the additional bullet drain. He also wore steel toes, but lacked the ankle knife. Curtis was a man with a plan: kill everything.

Staff Sergeant Dean 'Deano' Jenkins followed close behind Curtis, his back to the warrant officer's as he covered the rear flank. Dean's outfitting was identical to Lt. Lawing's, but his load out was slightly different. Jenkins carried the standard M-4, but hanging on his front was the deadly H&K MP5 submachine gun, a hose of bullets that just begged for victims. Deano had 'misplaced' his knife in an earlier confrontation, so instead of a knife strapped to his calf, there was a crowbar hanging from the belt loop of his BDU's. SSG Jenkins also hefted a heavy field pack, filled to the brim with the team's provisions. But in a side pocket, within easy reach, was about a block and a half of C-4, a preferred explosive when you wanted things to not exist anymore. Deano was packing, and he knew it.

Lagging behind Jenkins was the new addition to the group. His name tag was gone, and his shifty disposition forestalled his identity being shared with the rest of the squad. He too carried the M-4, but the RPG-7 rocket launcher on his back made him 'King Boom'. He had several supplementary rockets strapped beside the launcher, but he wasn't short on 5.56mm rounds, either. He was like Deano, lacking in the handgun and knife department, although the way he carried himself portrayed a hand-to-hand fighting master. He too wore BDU's, flak armor, a thick, green helmet, and a gas mask.

The entire group was exhausted; a week had passed since the infection had hit the US. They had been called in to Mercy for normal rioting when things turned sour. The rioters started acting strange: freaking out as loud noises and attacking anyone in front of them. 2nd platoon, under the command of Lt. Lawing, had set up a barricade at Second Street and did their damnedest to hold back the rabid mobs. Try as they might, the forty soldiers of Second Platoon were overrun by the onslaught of vicious civilians. And when the barriers fell, and the rioters got inside the makeshift fortress, Second Platoon saw them for what they were: cannibalistic monster, smudge with dirt and blood and gore. Second Platoon sallied forth with drawn knife and raised gun, but there were too few of them, and they fell one by one.

The Lt., against his better judgment, called in a mobile artillery strike on the areas around Second Street. The artillery landed among the crowds, shrapnel separating limbs from bodies and rending flesh and breaking bone. Even with the added artillery barrage, however, the surviving members of 2nd Platoon were forced to bug out and retreat through the alleyways. The infected people behind them sprinted in pursuit, and several more brave soldiers fell victim to faster monsters and dead ends. A surviving fire team of roughly fifteen men made it to a storefront, and locked themselves in. The temporary barricade, however, proved to be but a temporary defense.

Slowly, wounds that weren't worrisome claimed the lives of the valiant survivors. One by one, they succumbed to infection and were executed. They died heroes, some blowing their own brains out or leaving the barricade before they turned. Soon, only three remained. Deano, Lawing, and Curtis snuck across rooftops, stealthily slipping past oblivious infected. After they descended back down to ground level, they made their way through several coffee shops, where they encountered the mystery corporal. And now, our four survivors made their way through another alleyway, one that ended with a door on the side.

Corpses greeted them as they walked through it. The Lt. stopped and examined the corpses. The dead had been infected, but seemed to have been killed by their peers. Every one of the downed zombies were covered in a viscous goo. Lawing reached forward and rubbed some on his finger, checking the consistency, then wiped it on his trousers and motioned for the others to follow him. He would contemplate the goo later. They walked to the door and stopped. At a signal from Lawing, they split into two teams, one on each side.

Lawing stepped in front of the door and raised his boot. With a grunt of effort, he kicked hard near the doorknob, sending the door flying inward. The other three soldiers peeked in, M-4 rifles at the ready. Nothing. The four moved in, checking corners and shining flashlights all over the area. They moved down a hallway in single file, their boots thudding on hard wood flooring. They walked forward slowly, then froze when they heard a moaning sound. Lawing followed his ears towards a nearby door and slowly opened it, keeping his M-4 at the ready. The Lt. Shined his light inside to reveal a medium-sized bedroom, though sleeping wasn't exactly a recent activity here.

In front of them where masses of bodies, all bearing vicious slash marks. They had all been killed at once, it seemed, and the slaughter was oppressive to the mind, to say nothing of the nostrils. And kneeling in front of the corpses was a crying woman, her light grey hair shielding her face from view. Her dress had holes in it from scratches and bites, her hands sported freakishly long claws, and her gaunt completion all told Lawing one thing: she was infected.

"What do we do?" asked Curtis, half reaching for his tactical shotgun. He was no stranger to death, or women, but put both together and the warrant officer wanted some scattershot between him and trouble.

"Not sure, but we'd better eighty six the lights just in case." Lawing responded cooly.

Everyone turned off there lights and waited. The infected woman kept wailing, a grating sound for even the briefest of times. Eventually, the corporal got tired of it and asked, "Why don't we just shoot her?"

"We don't know what the hell _it_ is." whispered Jenkins in response. Lawing frowned and turned to the two conversing NCOs'.

"Just shut up, both of you! We do not want to piss that thing…," he froze, as if sensing something.

"It's right behind me, isn't it?"

Curtis gulped loudly and nodded, and everyone could here the _click _of his safety coming off. Jenkins and the corporal followed suit, while Lawing fought to keep his pulse slow.

They all nodded in unison and he turned, M-4 coming up. Time slowed. As he raised his weapon, the now standing woman was brought to light, and they all regretted that fact. The woman's face was contorted in an expression of pure rage, and her eyes glowed red. Her teeth were all pointed, and her yellowish tongue was barely visible. Time seemed to speed up slowly, and Lawing's sights lined up on the infected's head just as she emitted a lound screech. He pulled the trigger twice, and watched with satisfaction as blood blossomed from her forehead and cheek, and the crazy woman was knocked to the ground. Behind where she once stood, a gooey collection of blood, icor, and brains colored the pale walls. But the gauntlet had been thrown down.

Outside, Lawing could hear the sound of a crowd gathering. His shots had attracted some unwanted attention, and he snapped into tactical mode.

"Shit! Move, get up the stairs!" Yelled Lawing as they moved from the door and stormed up the stairs. Curtis let Jenkins and the corporal pass when they reached the top, then slammed the door closed. He moved a large waste bin in front of the door, securing it for the time being. They stomped up the stairs, and soon broke free of the stairwell out onto the open roof. Curtis secured the roof exit with another waste bin, and the rest relaxed slightly.

"Remind me never to piss off a woman again," Lawing offered, and the rest of the survivors chuckled at his dry humor. Curtis slumped against the dumpster and slid down to a sitting position, before leaning back and resting properly. Deano found a comfortable corner where he could prop up his back, then set his pack to the side and likewise fell asleep. The corporal went over to the edge of the roof, silently volunteering for night watch. Lawing was fine with that, and he found himself a nice blue folding chair, flopped down into it, and closed his eyes.

I have a beta reader finally. So all stories will be beta'd soon.

Betaread by bathedinblood


	3. What Next?

Chapter Two: What Next?

Mercy City Suburb of Chicago

Oct. 25 2327 hours 11:27 PM

1Lt. Lawing

Song: Finish the Fight

The Lieutenant opened his eyes, staring out through his gas mask. _Well, might as well get up,_ the large man thought whimsically. With a grunt of effort, he sat up, the chair squeaking slightly. He unclasped his helmet and took it off his head, sweat beading on his forehead. Those damn things were _hot_. He then unbuckled the clasps of the mask and pulled it off, allowing the surrounding aromas to permeate his senses. He smelled death and burning rubber, with a slight aftertaste of gunpowder. He closed his eyes to stop them from watering.

Lt. Lawing opened his eyes slowly as he looked around. Curtis remained against the large garbage disposal unit he had slumped against earlier, and even though he wore a mask, his snores were audible. Jenkins had slumped over during the brief nap, and he was almost curled up in the fetal position.

Lawing rubbed his eyes with a gloved hand and felt the slightly itchy material dig into his eyes. They watered as he stopped rubbing them, and he blinked the tears away, then looked around.

The Lieutenant stood up and rolled his shoulders, shaking out the sore muscles in them. He put the mask into a bag on his waist and put his helmet back on. Deciding not to bother with the strap, he left the strip of material hanging near his chin, then turned toward the edge of the roof. The Corporal sat there, looking as bored as a man with a gas mask could. When he noticed the Lieutenant was looking at him. The Corporal faced him from his sitting position and greeted his superior with a lazy two finger salute.

"Corporal, any problems?"

"None sir." the Corporal said in a slight German accent.

"Alright keep an eye out, and call me on the short wave if they wake up or anything happens. Understand?"

"Sir."

"Alright I'm going to check out one of the buildings next door." Lawing turned and started walking toward said building, slinging his M-4 as he did so.

"Sir?"

"Just stay on watch. I'm going to check for food and supplies."

"Alright sir, be careful."

With that, Lawing walked away from the Corporal at a slight jog. He saw a lower building to his right that looked promising. He took a deep prepatory breath, then started running towards it. His arms churned, and his boots crunched in the loose gravel that layered the roof. When he reached the edge, he jumped onto the rail portion of the roof and pushed off with his left leg. The Lieutenant sailed through the air as the other roof came up to greet him.

He landed hard, his right foot slipping on a slick tarp. The Lt fell hard, slamming his head into the tarp and whatever lay beneath it. The impact sent his unsecured helmet flying forward. Lawing slid to the ground on the other side of the tarp, away from the edge, with a shrill squeak. When he stopped moving, the battered Lieutenant groaned in pain. He sat up and massaged his head, where a large bump was already beginning to form. With a frustrated growl, he walked over to his lost helmet and picked it up, putting it on and clicking the buckle together. Satisfied that is was now secured, he continued.

The roof was vastly different then theirs. A large portion of it had a blue tarp over it. Several chairs where under the tarp as well as bedding material. Boxes of ammo littered the roof as did spent shell casings. Curious, Lawing checked the still full boxes, only to be disappointed when he found that most where the wrong caliber for any of their weapons. He sighed heavily, but stashed the few rounds that where into his pockets. With the outside search complete, he walked to the door leading down into the building.

The door had a simple padlock on it. Lawing pulled out a pair of wire cutters and cut them off. The lock clinked lightly as it hit the roof's loose gravel. He opened the door, and his weapon came up into a position to fire as it swung to its full swing. The staircase was devoid of infected and no bodies were visible, though a good bit of blood was splashed on the walls and floor. He slowly descended the staircase, dried blood cracking as he stepped on the blotches of it.

He stopped as he reached a landing. Hesitantly, he peered to the right and stepped down those stairs as well. He reached the floor below the roof and kept moving. He moved silently, turning doorknobs as he walked down the hallway. To his disappointment, all were locked. At the end, however, a single door was ajar; he approached it with his weapon ready.

Lawing pushed open the door and entered the small apartment. In the dim light of a single naked bulb, Lawing could make out a kitchen and dining room area, where an oak table and counter sat. On the table, to the Lieutenant's pleasant surprise, was a stockless pump action shotgun as well as a large revolver. Lawing picked up the revolver and put it into a pocket and picked up the ammo boxes around it and put them into an empty pocket on his vest. He grabbed the shotgun, and secured it into a sling on his back, forming an 'X' with his M-21. He put that ammo into the last open pocket in his vest and continued into the apartment.

Lawing walked into a room that was the master bedroom. What he saw on the bed stabbed him in the heart.

A family laid on the bed: a mother and father and two small children. The woman wore a stained blue skirt and a white blouse, her feet clad only in socks. The dark-haired little boys wore matching white t-shirts and red shorts, twins most likely, their hands tangled in their mother's long brown hair. A dark-haired man in an undershirt and jeans sat at the side of the bed, his limp arm across his family, as if to ward them off from death itself. Sadly, Lawing observed, he had failed. In the man's hands sat a bolt action rifle, its barrel pointing at the doorway. On the night stand near the father was an empty jar of pills. The fathers' eyes where still open, obviously watching for intruders before taking the rest of the pills himself. Lawing walked towards the family; he slid his hand to the man's eyes and pushed them closed.

"May god grant mercy to you, May he give mercy to us all. God forgive this man for his acts and have mercy on his family as well. God I ask you to forgive this crime and have mercy on them. I ask you god to heed this prayer. Amen." Lawing said solemnly, then drew back his hand.

Lawing turned back towards the door and stalked out of the room. He made his way out of the apartment slowly, the scene still frozen in his mind. He continued on numbly, while a single thought ran through his mind: _Would I have done the same for my family?_ The Lieutenant shook his head sadly, and reached the top of the stairs. When he reached for the knob, his radio crackled and buzzed. Lawing stepped back down the stairs a few steps, then clicked the receive button.

"Lieutenant, Curtis and Jenkins are awake and they want to talk." The Corporal's tinny voice sounded from the shoulder mike..

"Roger I'm on…" Lawing started to say as a loud bang stopped him.

Lawing turned towards the sound, his rifle half raised. He found the door he had just previously gone to open almost torn from its hinges, and an infected..._something_ stood in the doorway. The infected had a white shirt on, black pants and a tie. It had pale white skin, red eyes, and graying hair. The infected had one other thing that the others didn't: six inch claw-like nails from his hands.

"Bring it on motherfucker." Lawing snarled.

The infected roared at Lawing, a high piercing wail, and started to move from foot to foot. Lawing switched his safety off moving the level to a third click from safe, the level had been scratched out and replaced with "Kill Them ALL!" The infected picked up speed and charged the Lieutenant, claws raised.

Lawing squeezed the trigger as the infected came running at him. The sound of the 5.56 mm rounds exiting the chamber nearly deafened him. The rounds from the M-4 tore off chunks of meat as they hit. Brain matter and bones erupted from the corpse as the rounds hit its head. The infected stumbled forward and fell as the magazine was emptied. The barrel smoked as the Lieutenant ejected the spent mag and inserted another one.

Lawing side-stepped the fallen monster and sprinted up the stairs. As he ran, sounds of other infected reached his ears. Alarm coursed through him, and Lawing put on a burst of speed as he sped toward the edge of the roof. On the adjacent roof, the other three soldiers were waving at him and beckoning wildly. When he reached the threshold, the Lieutenant leapt through the air, landing badly on a fire escape and sliding forward before crashing into the brick wall it was attached to.

"LT., you okay?" Curtis's panicked voice sounded from above.

"Yeah, I think so." Lawing said shakily as he stood up on the rungs of the ladder.

Lawing yelled in fright as an infected fell through his vision. The group of crazed zombies that had been behind him had reached the roof and followed, falling off the roof and onto the ground below. The spectacle only caused Lawing's subordinate's to laugh uproariously.

Lawing moved up the fire escape, his boots making a clanging sound as he walked. His men stood there as he approached the top. They clapped as he finished climbing the escape.

"You know LT, if you weren't the leader we would so be laughing at your retardation." Curtis said sardonically.

"Shut up, asshole." Lawing replied gruffly. He wasn't in the mood for the mouthy Warrant Officer.

"No really; you have achieved a new level of retardation. I thought not possible." Curtis continued, and he didn't seem to notice Lawing's face getting red.

"Warrant Officer, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Lawing yelled angrily, turning on the slightly shorter man with a snarl.

"Alright alright, no need to yell."

"I believe the situation warranted it." Jenkins inserted dryly.

Lawing pushed past Curtis and pulled the abandoned folding chair to a table on the roof. He reached into a pocket on his vest and pulled out a map. He placed the map on the table and folded it out. The map showed a detailed view of Mercy City and Chicago. Face scrunched in concentration, he traced a line until he stopped it at an intersection.

"Check for street signs; I need to get a good fix on our position." He said without looking up. The others scattered to the corners of the roof, looking into the dark.

"Fourth Street." said Curtis cheekily, still miffed about getting chewed out.

"Forrest Avenue." Jenkins said as he looked out to the north.

"Third Driveway." The Corporal said stoically.

"Good, we're a few miles from Fourth's H.Q." Lawing said as he lined up the location to the best of his map skills.

"We gonna try that tonight sir or wait for dawn?" asked Curtis. It was clear the Warrant Officer wasn't a specialist in strategy.

"Now, if we can. I don't want to wait any longer then we have to. They see better during the day and we don't have any good day optics, so night is pretty good."

"Alright, sir." Said Jenkins gloomily. He had enjoyed his little nap.

"I found a nice little revolver, anyone want it? Jenkins?"

"No sir I'm not good with pistols."

"Corporal?"

"Dibs. And it's Yakob."

"Yakob?" asked Curtis skeptically.

"German and Russian." Yakob replied shortly, effectively cutting off that avenue of conversation.

"Sure thing. Here you go." Lawing said as he handed over the .44 along with the ammunition for it, pulling the small boxes out of his vest.

Yakob fit the pistol into a pocket and put the ammo into his vest. All the men nodded at Lawing. He nodded back, they moved to the fire escape and continued down it. The four descended quickly, their boots slamming into the metal stairs loudly. When the squad reached the bottom, they took turns jumping down, falling about ten feet. They reached the mass of bodies that had fallen from the other roof and stepped around it.

The group moved forward onto Fourth Street out of the alleyway. They kept their guns ready, even though the infected did not notice them as they walked. The zombies were alert, but rather were looking in the opposite direction, to the west. Heavy fire erupted from that direction, and the nearby infected began to sprint in that direction. As the infected rounded the corner, several of them were dropped by a burst of automatic fire, and a police officer sprinted out onto Fourth Street. The officer wore black BDU's and a heavy riot helmet, the screen tinted black and hiding the person's face from view. The officer wore standard black combat boots, and printed across its back were the letters 'M.C.P.D.', all in bright white. The person wielded a small SMG, a P90 assault machine gun from what Lawing could tell, as well as a riot shield fastened to his/her arm. The person continued its sprint, spraying infected as it ran. The mystery person slammed several infected away with his/her riot shield, but kept moving.

"Lay down suppressing fire!" Yelled Lawing loudly, and his squad jumped into action.

The group opened fire together, cutting down multiple infected as the person came running at them. They shot in arcs, holding off the zombies that ran towards them. But soon, the trickle of infected gave way to the swarm that the police officer was running from, and Lawing knew that their position couldn't be held.

"Fall back!" The Lieutenant ordered, and the soldiers began to slowly back into the alleyway. As they all made their way in, the wide area that made up Fourth Street shrank into the killzone of a narrow alley, Curtis slinged his rifle and drew his shotgun from his back. More zombies sprinted into the alley, only to be blown back by scatter fire. Curtis laughed almost maniacally as he thinned the horde, dropping several infected with single shots. The others took this reprieve to swap magazines and continue falling back. Jenkins and Yakob retreated quickly, sprinting after the police officer, who was climbing the fire escape they had descended only a minute before. Lawing slapped Curtis on the back, and the Warrant Officer stowed his weapon and ran to the fire escape.

With the absence of Curtis's fire, the infected began to pour into the alleyway. Lawing greeted them with M-4 rounds, and he backpedaled toward the fire escape. Curtis made his way up the high ladder, then turned and pulled out his dual pistols. High above them, Yakob and Jenkins found positions on the edge of the roof and rained bullets on the undead horde.

Lawing finally turned and began to climb the ladder, his M-4 clattering in front of him. He pulled himself up onto the ladder, then ascended quickly, only to stop. His boot was grabbed about half way up, halting his progress. With an angry swipe at his thigh, he grabbed his pistol and swung it at the infected trying to hitchhike. He pulled the trigger with a sneer, the pistol jumping in his hands, as he shot the infected in the head, blowing brains and icor all over the wall. Its grip relaxed and it dropped, and Lawing continued up the ladder.

Some of the infected kept trying to climb up the stairs as lead rained down on them. The Police officer pulled out a pipe-like object and, with a flourish and a match, lit the fuse fastened to the top. Lawing's eyes widened at the sight of the explosive, and he ducked into the window of the floor he was on.

The officer threw it into the crowd of infected, most of whom were still on the ground. A loud beeping sound emitted from the device, strangely similar to a fire alarm. All of the assembled infected stopped their chase of the soldiers and turned toward this new prey. They jumped at the explosive and began stomping on it in anger, their only wish for it to stop emitting that dreadful noise. And in a way, it did.

The device exploded, sending shrapnel into the infected and ripping limbs off and destroying brain matter, turning it into mush. The crowd was vaporized in a split-second, leaving only a red mist in the air. Blood spattered Lawing and his men as they looked on in awe.

Lawing moved up the ladder quickly as the few remaining infected bled out from various cuts and holes. The Lieutenant finally reached the top of the fire escape, and was clapped on the back by Jenkins and Curtis. Lawing sighed and trudged over to his chair and sat down heavily. He looked down at his hands only to find that he was still clutching his sidearm. Lawing holstered his pistol and looked at the newcomer in black, who stood silently next to the door. Anger started to boil over as he stared at the riot cop.

"Goddamn you motherfucker!" Lawing yelled at the person. "What the fuck were you thinking, using an IED like that! What if the blast had been bigger, huh? We all could have been killed!"

"Where did you even…" Lawing was cut off as the riot cop took off its helmet to reveal a female face. The Lieutenant was speechless, to say the least.

Finally, Lawing turned towards his men. "What did I say not a day ago about me and women?"

"Not to piss them off." Jenkins said dryly, but one could sense the humor in his voice.

"Exactly and what did you let me do?" Lawing asked.

"Piss her off." Curtis said cheekily, and he reached up to undo his mask.

"Look, they weren't that hard." The woman finally said, and she put her hand on her hip in the classic 'you got a problem?' pose, her other arm cradling her helmet.

"That what's she said." Curtis just couldn't stop himself.

Lawing gave the Warrant Officer a deadpan look, tempted to hit him. But to everyone's surprise, it was not a cuff on the cheek from the Lieutenant that struck Curtis, but the sturdy glass of a riot shield, wielded by the female riot officer. The shield hit Curtis over the head with a sharp crack, and he crouched slightly in pain.

"Son of a bitch!"

bathedinblood here, just glad that another chapter is down for the count. I'm going to go work on my other stories, but I would first like to say that I deeply enjoy beta-reading, much more than I enjoy writing. See if you can find me in the story!

M.E.R.C. Inc. here woo another chapter done. So glad that's done. Blood added close to a thousand words for me mainly expanding on descriptions I can't do very well but am learning.


	4. Meet Tex

Chapter Three: Meet Tex

Mercy City Suburb of Chicago

Oct. 25th 2342 Hours 11:42 PM

Music: **Fell on Black Days** by Sound garden

"Whiskey Tango Foxtrot." Lawing said as he stared at the officer. The rest of the squad was staring at her quizzically as well, which only increased the woman's ire.

"What you just say?" she asked hotly, her eyebrows going in opposite directions, one cocked up with the other lowered in anger. Her answer came not from Lawing, however, but from the normally silent Yakob.

"Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. It's the military phonetic alphabet for sounding things out, like an abbreviation." Yakob said coolly, completing the longest sentence the men had ever heard him utter.

"What the fuck does it mean? Stop talking in riddles." She demanded hotly, her hand already moving back over toward her trusty riot shield.

"You already know." Jenkins said cryptically, drawing imaginary letters in the air with his fingers. The female officer just shook her head in confusion.

"Huh?" _Did I join up with a bunch of whackos? _She wondered idly to herself.

"Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. W.T.F, figure it out." Curtis said cynically, his gas mask on backwards for comic effect. The flawless black surface of the reversed mask reflected the woman's irritated visage well.

"Shut up, pervert." She retorted with an angry swipe at his head. Surprisingly, Curtis dodged it smoothly, even though his eyes were covered.

"I'm not a pervert!" Eric yelled through the material, his indignant tone muffled by gas-proof material. She growled and followed up with a haymaker, one he did not dodge. Her fist crashed into his masked face and sent him to the ground, hard.

"Look lady, you shouldn't have hit him. He's an idiot; he cracks jokes. That's what he does. Sorry if it offended you." Lawing said neutrally, trying to diffuse a potentially deadly situation. He held his hands up in front of him in a disarming manner.

"I hate perverts. So who are you?" she asked, looking at them all curiously.

"First Lieutenant Lawing. First Platoon, Alpha Company, First Battalion, 131st Infantry."

"Warrant Officer Curtis. Second Platoon, Alpha Company First Battalion, 131st Infantry."

"Staff Sergeant Jenkins. First Platoon, Alpha Company, First Battalion, 131st Infantry."

"Corporal Yakob. Charlie Company, Delta Force."

"Bravo Sierra, Corporal." Curtis said loudly, punching the corporal in the shoulder playfully.

"What?" She asked.

"Bull shit." Jenkins explained behind an obscuring hand, which was pointless because his mask hid his face. The officer gritted her teeth and glared at the two goofing army morons.

"Will you please stop messing around, you idiots!" she roared, startling Curtis and Yakob out of their banter.

"Alright, we will. On one condition: I didn't catch your name earlier," Lawing said stiffly, Army regulations creeping into the conversation. The brunette cocked an eyebrow and snorted, before replying curtly.

"Because I couldn't get a word in edge wise. The name's Sergeant Bethany Long. But everyone calls me Tex."

"Tex?" Curtis asked incredulously, his now correct gas mask bobbing up and down as he examined her profile in an exaggerated fashion. She made a fist and shook it at him, but he just waved it off.

"I was born in Texas, but you can't tell anymore unless you drink the tea I make." Tex said offhandedly, glaring holes through Curtis' soul as she explained. He feigned terror, cowering behind Jenkins and visibly shaking. The staff sergeant was not amused.

"Accent faded." Lawing said, and he nodded knowingly.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"I used to have an Alabama one, but it went out when I started commanding."

"So, what where you doing when you rescued me?" Tex said casually, changing the subject.

"Heading to the base of the Fourth Brigade."

"Mind if I tag along?" She asked sweetly, making Curtis burst out in stifled laughter.

"Not really, but you had better keep up and listen to orders." Lawing warned. He had little patience for slackers, Curtis aside.

"Alright, lieu."

"If your gonna call me a weird name, call me Jeff."

Tex looked at the group and nodded as they moved back towards the fire escape. The business was concluded, and something in the air felt different. The swap from 'me and them' to 'us' was almost tangible, Tex thought to herself as she watched Curtis and Jenkins bowed in exaggerated grace as Lawing passed. _Maybe this won't be TOO bad,_ she thought to herself.

The group started down the metal staircase, their boots clanging on the metal as they descended. The escape at the bottom swung down as Jenkins delivered a hard kick to the top of it. Lawing hit the ground first, his M-4 up and at the ready as the rest came down. They continued down the alley way, skirting around the two mounds of dead infected, a by-product of their frantic retreat to the roof. A foul stench hung in the air, and the bodies were just beginning to decompose.

"How are we going to get to your base?" Tex asked hesitantly, her riot shield at the ready in case she had to bash a zombie. Or Curtis.

"Same we always have: walking. We're going to walk along the tram line towards base." Lawing explained, pointing along the street as he did so.

The streets where clear of infected. The group walked slowly, keeping a eye out for any zombies that had come late to the party. It wouldn't do to alert another horde. The empty street was dark; most of the street lights where malfunctioning or destroyed. Several parked cars had their gas flaps open and their tanks open to the air. Someone had actually possessed the presence of mind to siphon gas from them.

The group moved through a side alley onto the main highway, into the wide open space as the sky twinkled with stars. They passed cars both stopped and crashed as they walked down the off ramp of the highway onto another portion of the road. The group stepped on random discard garbage that had blown onto the road way as the tram line came into view.

"We're walking how far along this thing?" Tex asked incredulously. The road seemed to stretch for miles, something she didn't feel like legging if she could help it.

"Just shy under four miles." Curtis replied with an invisible grin, one that was tangible through his voice.

"Four miles!" Tex screeched in alarm, before quickly covering her mouth. Lawing whirled on her and slapped his hand over hers.

"Shut up! We don't need unwanted attention, _Tex_." Lawing whispered harshly, slowly removing his hand as she nodded.

The group walked closer to the tracks and the chain link fence that surrounded it. Lawing let his rifle hand on its sling and dug around in his vest before pulled out his trusty wire cutters. He stepped toward the fence and went to work on the metal boundary while his team kept watch. After a few seconds, roughly four square feet of chain link rustled to the ground. Yakob turned around and went through first, followed by Jenkins and Curtis. Tex ducked under right behind them as Lawing kept watch. When she was through, Lawing slinked through the hole and kept moving as the group fell in behind him. The tracks were clear of debris as the five people moved closer to their target.

An abandoned station sat silently ahead of them, and still there were no infected in sight. Lawing motioned for them to move forward with a hand signal, and they all silently approached the building. The brown wood building had no windows, and no light exhumed from its dilapidated profile. Lawing reached the patio first, his combat boots thudding loudly on the wooden planks. Several other thuds followed as the rest of the team filled in behind him. Together, Lawing and his followers turned the corner, only to stop and gape in disbelief.

A crashed tram blocked the entire tunnel entrance. Its cherry red paint job was interrupted here and there by the gaping holes in its sides, wounding the large vehicle. There were quite a few corpses lying around the site, though none of them had seen fit to stand back up and attempt to eat anyone.

"Well crap." Lawing said "Back to the station, I guess, and we'll go around." the group turned around and headed back the way they came.

"You could tell which line it was. I could have told you it was blocked by a wreck before the outbreak." Curtis said snidely.

"Thanks for the information now." Lawing said as anger rose inside him. "We didn't know which line it was to begin with it just said the West Tram Line on the map nothing else, like blue route or red route."

Lawing stormed towards the station angrily, leaving the other standing still. Tex looked at the disappearing man with confusion. The others rubbed the back of their heads sheepishly, and she turned to Curtis.

"What's his problem?" Curtis sighed heavily and scratched his leg idly.

"He has been like that since the infection broke out. He deals with things with violence and anger. He should calm down when he kills something." Curtis said in regards to his friend's volatile temper.

"Why?" She asked, her curiosity piqued. Curtis was all of a sudden being serious, and she wanted to take advantage of that for as long as possible.

"We all deal with things differently. Me, I crack jokes. Yakob has been quiet to a stupid extent, and Jenkins has mellowed out and is focusing on his job. I think he believes that if he had that attitude at the start he wouldn't have lost almost all of his men. He blames himself for their deaths and wishes to atone for his mistakes. The same with the L.T." Curtis explained quietly. His eyes lowered slightly as he thought about his dead friends and teammates. The losses had hit them all hard, especially at night. The screams...

"Since when did you learn so much about people?" Tex asked Curtis, shaking him out of his detrimental musings.

"I've always been good at the why in things, not the how. It's easy to wonder on the reason, not the means." Curtis replied curtly. His demeanor sank into mournful silence, and Tex could see her chance at getting information slipping away with his smile.

"So why are you in the army then you could make a fortune being a shrink?" She prodded, hoping to keep him open.

"The pay was the only reason I went in. Easy money to be a soldier. Now, I guess it's for survival." He replied, then started fiddling with his gas mask again.

Tex nodded as they caught up with Lawing at the station. The Lieutenant heaved himself onto the ledge and stood up quickly, scanning for any unwelcome visitors. Surprisingly, the station had no signs of infected recently. In fact, it seemed that the tram station had been abandoned since before the outbreak. Lawing turned and beckoned to his compatriots, and together they all ascended to the main platform. They walked slowly towards the stairs that lead to the overpass. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they all groaned at the sight of a locked gate blocking their path.

"Ah, come on." Curtis griped as he glared at the locked gate, then turned and threw his hands into the air. Lawing walked forward and gripped the thick padlock, rolling it in his hands. The actual locking mechanism was encased in steel, and the looped bar that held the door locked appeared to be titanium. _No chance cutting this,_ Lawing thought to himself with a sigh. He turned back to the team and crossed his arms. The others frowned at his expression, save Curtis. Lawing glanced behind Deano and Tex to see the warrant officer angrily kicking an empty trash bin across the train platform, screaming obscenities at the poor can the entire time. The Lieutenant sighed and shook his head.

"Find the key to this lock or Dean will have to blow it. I'd rather not cause that amount of commotion." Lawing said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Why not use your wire cutters?" Tex asked, her eyes falling on the padlock. The yelling stopped, and Curtis stomped over to the others.

"The lock is too thick to cut through with the cutters." he said grudgingly. Curtis stopped being so angry at the comment and snickered, his rather dirty mind seeing the joke. Lawing glared at his second-in-command, then an evil smirk crossed his face.

"Curtis." Lawing said evilly. The warrant officer stopped his chuckling and looked up at Lawing, not liking where this was going. "You'll look for the key with Tex." Curtis immediately began shaking his head and backing away, then his hands shot up to his mask. Before he could get it off, Tex grabbed his arm and began to pull him towards an office and management area.

Curtis had a look of fear on his face as Tex started to drag him off to look for the key. Curtis whimpered as he was dragged off. Jenkins looked on in wonderment, imagining the pain Curtis would go through.

"Sir, why did you let Tex run off with Curtis?" Jenkins asked lazily, listening intently to the sounds of arguing and riot shield-related injuries.

"To prove a point with him and his need to stop talking." Lawing replied. "And the fact he has a death wish when it comes to women."

"He has a death wish?" Yakob asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Particularly when it comes to women."

"Yes, he does." Lawing said. The entire group cringed as a cry of pain echoed from the office area.

"Clearly you never heard the rumors." Jenkins said knowingly. Lawing cocked an eyebrow.

"What rumors?"

"That you're extremely sexist and you can't find a single woman to date." Jenkins said coolly, as if he were discussing the weather.

"I am not." Lawing stated angrily, his face scrunching up in annoyance.

"Yes you are; every woman that has been in charge over you, you've had a problem with them, even if they do what ever it takes to please you." Jenkins said simply, fiddling with the sight of his M-4 as Lawing's ire climbed.

"That is not right."

"What about the major? You had a crush on her, but when she was in charge, you turned on her."

"I did not."

"Yes you did, she wanted to go out with you because you were smart."

"She did not even try that. If she did I would have said no."

"Sex~ist." Yakob said in a sing-song voice, throwing in his two cents worth.

"I am not sex…" Lawing said but was interrupted by Tex walking back into the space, a miserable Curtis tagging along behind her.

"Found it." Tex said proudly as she brandished the key forward.

"We found the damn key, let's go." Curtis said in a painful grunt, holding his head and groaning.

"Alright, unlock the gate and we'll head around the wreck and get back onto the track and finish the last mile on it before we head to base." Lawing said stiffly, glad that things were taking a turn for the formal.

"So we Oscar Mike?" Curtis asked anxiously; he wasn't one for staying in one spot.

"Yeah, we're Oscar Mike." Lawing replied as he turned the key in the lock and opened the gate. It slid inward and collapsed on itself like an accordion, allowing the five survivors passage through. The gate rattled to a stop as they ascended the stairs quickly, boots pounding on the steps. The steps lead to a tiled hallway, which in turn ran up into the open streets. They hustled up the next set of steps, their huffs and puffs loud in the abnormal silence. The sounds of their feet seemed too quiet for the once busy station. The stairs led to a set of turnstiles, one going in and two going out. The conglomeration of metal bars were set up to turn on an axis, and only one side was passable. They preceded through the turn gates individually, passing through so quickly that the oiled gear squeaked as the turnstile spun.

The group stepped back out into night, their breaths puffing in the cool air. Several infected wandered around, taking no notice of the armed humans as they proceeded through the street. As Lawing led the way up the main street, they came to the site of a lost battle. Smoking remains of cars and bodies littered the area on the corner of the street, all of them situated around a small semicircle of sandbags. A fifty caliber heavy machine gun sat back, its barrel stabbing upwards toward the full moon. All around it, blood and spent shell casings covered the once clean sidewalk. The box of ammunition that hung on its side was empty. Apparently, whoever had manned the gun hadn't been properly prepared. But who would be prepared for something like a zombie apocalypse, Max Brooks aside?

"What happened here?" Tex asked, keeping her voice down. She kept her eyes fixed on the gun emplacement, as if expecting infected to come pouring out from the cover of the sandbags. Thankfully, no zombies dared rationalize her fear.

"Standard military quarantine protocol. Keep everything in or keep everything out." Lawing said quietly, his eyes avoiding the heavy machine gun as he searched the area for sign of human survival. Stacked bodies, missing bodies, signs, anything. He scanned the empty street and cold brick buildings quickly, but could find nothing. As far as he knew, they were alone.

"We need to keep moving, those infected might wise up sir." Curtis said looking at the infected stumbling around.

"Alright let's keep moving. This place ain't getting any closer with us standing around talking." Lawing growled as he kept trotted towards the next station.

The group fanned out into an arrow-like formation. Lawing in front, with Curtis on his right. His left was covered by Jenkins, his rear covered by Yakob and Tex. Each survivor had a weapon u and at the ready. Lawing led the troop around the corner to the next street. The roadway was clear of infected; their only company the many uninfected corpses that had been picked clean by scavengers and the infected. A squawking sound filled the air, and a crow landed on an elderly man in a torn letterman jacket. The crow cried again, then dug greedily into the man's face, the pulled out an eye. Curtis grimaced in disgust, and swatted at the bird. The crow jumped out of his reach, however, and took off into the night, its gruesome prize clutched in its beak.

The group moved past a few Humvees and APCs that where abandoned. The vehicles' guns were pointed towards the barricade, as if they had turned on their masters. The dark woodland camo stuck out in the brickwork and metal surroundings of the city.

Lawing almost signaled for them to move up when a tearing noise reached his ears. He held up a hand and the group froze. Tex peered around, searching for the source of the noise. Another tearing noise was heard, and they all looked toward the next subway station. Just next to the entranceway, a man in woodland camo fatigues was bent over something small, and blood was pooling around his knees. His back was to the squad of survivors, but it was obvious what he was doing. Tex raised her service pistol and pointed it at the zombie, but Lawing pressed the barrel downwards with two fingers. At her questioning gaze, he put a finger to his lips, then nodded to Curtis. The warrant officer nodded back, then slipped the sling of his M-4 over his shoulder and set it on the ground. He brought his shotgun around and set it down too, the crouched and moved up toward the zombie, keeping the Humvees between himself and the infected soldier.

As Curtis maneuvered through the wreckage towards the zombie, Tex leaned over toward Lawing.

"Why are you sending the idiot in? Why don't we just shoot it?" She whispered, her eyes glued on the feasting zombie. Lawing smirked wryly at her question, but his eyes followed Curtis' movements. The warrant officer reached the front end of the Humvee closest to the zombie, and began creeping towards it. The infected soldier just kept eating, oblivious to death literally creeping up right behind it.

"Warrant Officers are basically specialists; men who train extensively in one area." Lawing replied quietly. "It can range from washroom repair to code breaker. Or, in Curtis' case," Lawing gestured toward his subordinate, who had now drawn his sixteen inch long fighting knife. The blade glinted in the moonlight, but did not attract the zombie's attention. "Close quarters combat and the silent kill." Tex's eyes widened in realization, and she watched as Curtis closed the distance between him and the zombie from yards to feet, then from feet to inches.

Curtis reached forward slowly, intent on yanking the zombie's head back and slitting its throat, but stopped when his gaze inadvertently fell on the zombie's victim. Beneath the infected soldier lay a small boy, roughly eight years old, with dark brown hair. The boy's once bright green eyes were now dull, but the look of terror hadn't left his face, even in death. The boy wore a bright blue _Toy Story_ shirt, with Buzz Lightyear and Sherriff Woody standing next to each other and smiling. Just below the boy's shirt was a bloody, congealed mess of intestines, liver, stomach, and other viscera. Curtis' throat constricted as he gazed at the boy's face, then back to the wound. A high pitched voice echoed in his head, one whose owner had died right in front of his eyes.

"_Eric, that's no fair! Why do you get to drive?" His little brother whined loudly. Eric chuckled warmly and ruffled the little boy's hair with his right hand, his left on the steering wheel of the go-cart. He and his little brother whisked down the track, passing another go-cart smoothly before zipping into a sharp left turn._

"_But you said you would let me drive!" His little sibling whined loudly. Eric turned and gave his little brother a chastising look before returning his gaze to the snaking track._

"_I said, when you get older you can drive. For now, you're my designated passenger." Eric said cheerfully. He turned the wheel hard, and the go-cart lurched as he dove in between another cart and the inside wall, cleanly passing yet another opponent. He expected a reply, but his little brother remained silent. He couldn't look away from the track, so he tried to coax his little brother out of his silence._

"_Christien, don't be like that." No response. "Christien?" _

_Eric looked over, and was shocked to see his little brother choking and coughing violently, as if he had swallowed a bug. Alarmed, Eric swung the cart into the pit stop and began fumbling with the seat belts. His little brother continued to cough and hack, and his face began to turn blue._

"_Don't worry little bro, I got ya!" Eric said worriedly. He finally released the harnesses and scooped up his gasping little brother. He stepped out of the cart and dashed toward the main park area. He reached the man at the controls for the traffic lights and stopped, panting heavily. The man looked at him with a frown, concern etched across his face._

"_Please, mister. You gotta help my little brother." Eric gasped out. The man nodded and reached for the boy slowly. All of a sudden, a rather disheveled looking man jumped in between the two adults and grabbed the young boy. Eric cried out in alarm and reached for his little brother. The boy had lapsed into oxygen deprived unconsciousness, and hung limp in the wild man's arms._

"_Hey, fucker! Give him back!" Eric snarled, grasping his little brother's legs and pulling. The man pulled back somewhat, then did something completely unexpected. He bit down on the back of Christien's neck, then tore a chunk of flesh, nerve, and meat from the young boy. Eric's eyes widened in horror as he watched blood spatter everywhere._

"_NOOOOO!"_

_With inhuman strength, Eric wrenched his little brother from the wild man's arms and laid him down on the ground. In a revolting display, the man occupied himself by devouring the meat that he had torn from Christien's neck, an action that left him open for retaliation._

_Eric's eyes blazed with rage, and he tackled the man. The two rolled across the ground as the crowd screamed in terror, fleeing for their lives. Eric grasped the man by the collar of his shirt, but the fabric tore. He snarled with rage and grasped the man's jaw tightly, the cloth in between his fingers and the man's teeth. Using the leverage he had on the jaw, he kept the man's head still and slammed his fist into his face repeatedly. The rabid man snarled and scratched at Eric's arms, but the off-duty warrant officer was too enraged to care, let alone let up. Eric ceased punching and braced himself by placing his free hand on the attacker's face, digging his thumb into its eye. Now stable, he pulled hard on the jaw with all of his strength, and the snarls of rage became a high-pitched wail of pain. He pulled and pulled, grunting in both fury and exertion, until finally a snap greeted his ears. The resistance on the jaw gave way, and he came off the man with a lower set of teeth clutched tightly in his hands._

"Christien..." Curtis whispered in a pained grimace. His voice wasn't low enough, however, as the infected stopped feasting and turned to face him. The zombie had blood dripping from broken teeth and all down its chin, but the life-giving liquid did not hide its feral snarl. The zombie turned to leap towards Curtis, but the memory of his little brother's death coupled with the young boy before him turned Curtis into something else entirely. He snarled right back and grabbed the infected by the throat, then slammed it into the pavement. The zombie tried to shriek, to call for more infected, but no air passed to its lungs. All it could do was gargle and struggle, until Curtis stabbed his fighting knife right into its left eye. It's struggled ceased immediately, but Curtis did not. He withdrew the knife and stabbed the dead zombie in the face again. And again. And again. Tears fogged his vision, and his mask prevented him from wiping them away. But he didn't care. All he wanted was for the zombie to die.

He withdrew the knife and made to stab again, until a hand caught his own. He snarled and turned to face the one who would rob him of his vengeance, only to see Lawing. He immediately calmed down, then looked back down at the little boy before him. Instead of brown hair, the boy was blonde. The green eyes were brown, and one was missing. Curtis blinked, then looked back at the rest of the group. They were all staring at him. He snatched his hand from Lawing's grasp and flicked his wrist, throwing the blood off of his fighting knife before he resheathed it. Lawing dropped Curtis' weapons beside him and walked past him, into the station. Yakob and Dean followed, but Tex still stood there, watching the warrant officer.

Oblivious to his audience, Curtis nearly ripped the fatigue top from the zombie's torso, the set it across the young boy's body. Without a word, he stood and slung his weapons, the stalked by Tex. She tried to look him in the eye, but he refused to meet her gaze. Together, they walked down the steps, leaving the two corpses behind.

This station was different from the others; the walls had clear plastic sheets, and several alcoves were curtained, as if they were showers. Tex looked at Lawing expectantly, and he sighed and explained.

"Decontamination room. Showers to wash off any biological or radioactive remnants on your clothes and skin." Lawing said as he stepped past the showers and deeper into the station. Several doors where closed, but the entrance to the platform was blocked by a heavy metal grating, the kind that required motors to open and close.

"Power must have shut it." Curtis said stiffly. He wasn't in the mood, especially after the kid's corpse.

"Spread out and search for a generator or something." Lawing said gruffly, and the other four nodded.

The group split up. Tex following Curtis towards a ticket booth as Lawing went to examine a series of consoles near the platform. He touched them, only to find that they were cold. Lack of recent use and a power supply had left them freezing to the touch. Jenkins examined a room and found a ladder to the roof, as well on some canned food in a cabinet. He grabbed them with a chuckle and stuffed them into his pack.

Curtis wasn't faring any better as he searched vainly for a power source, Tex close behind him. He turned down a dark corridor to find a set of double doors. He opened them and found himself in a rather large room, one filled with computer consoles and servers. He saw several large cables leading from the main bank of servers into a wall, and right next to the cables lay a door. He turned to Tex with a grumble.

"I'm going into the room next door to check for a power supply. When it comes on, go over and turn off security systems that should come up. Got it?"

Tex nodded as he opened the door and went through, closing it behind him. Tex huffed in exasperation and stared at the door. When he came back through, she would have a word with him over the whole knife episode. The sounds of a generator cranking up reached her ears as she started flipping switches and turning knobs. Soon the lights came back on above her, filling the room with fluorescent light. She smiled, as it made her job much easier.

Lawing was inside a weird machine, one that was attached to the consoles as the power came back on. Before he could exit the coffin-like scanner, a red laser like light came out of the device at the top. The light spun around him slowly, going from head to foot and back again, and painting hi in a red light. The consoles came to life with color as the device stopped moving, and the door slid open. Lawing walked over to the console that had reactivated and studied the readouts. At the top of the screen were his blood pressure and heartbeat monitors. In the middle was a human shaped puzzle, detailing primary organ systems and overall health. The little person representing Lawing was all green, except for two areas: a small yellow area near the back of his head, and a small red area on his left arm. Perplexed, Lawing moved his finger over the red area and tapped the screen. The little man went away and a large message appeared on the screen: 'Second Generation Infection Found. Security has been notified."

Lawing gasped in disbelief, and his legs felt rubbery. He clinged to the console and used the frame to support himself, while his mind raced a mile a minute. _How? It's not possible!_ But the cold hard truth settled in on him, and the realization hurt: he was infected.

Curtis had yet to exit the generator room, which caused Tex to get nervous. Yakob entered the control room, Jenkins right behind him. Tex was just about to ask one of them something, when scuffling sounds came from the room in front of them. Yakob and Jenkins looked at each other, then went to different sides of the door and got ready to breech it. Both of them nodded, then Yakob kicked the door in with a grunt, and they both rushed in.

Lawing sat down heavily, not noticing the gate open with a loud creak as the news sunk in. He was infected. The LT looked at his right arm, rolling up the sleeve and examining a bandage that was on it. He peeled it off to reveal a long, shallow cut. He applied some antibiotic cream from his med kit and put another bandage on it. As he rolled up his sleeve, his mind drifted to the Battle of Second Street.

Shrapnel had cut him as the artillery arced in. and infected exploded close to him. It had showered the arm in blood as Lawing tried to block it from getting onto his mask. Lawing nodded to himself, sure that was the infection time. _That was the only chance it could have happened. Damn._ He looked at the gate with a heavy sigh and waited for the rest of the group, M-4 across his knees.

Jenkins and Yakob burst into the generator room to find Curtis bent over something, his voice muttering some mantra over and over again. Yakob sent Deano a questioning look, to which the sergeant replied with a shrug. They approached cautiously, only for Curtis to wheel around and plop down on his butt. Clutched in the warrant officer's hands was a Squad Automatic Weapon, or SAW for short. The M-240 LMG was primarily used to spit bullets out in large quantities, but this particular model was mounted with an ACOG short range scope. Curtis patted the gun lovingly, and repeated his mantra.

"We're gonna kill lots of zombies now, oh yes we are. Oh yes we are." He cooed, as if he were speaking to a dog. Tex looked on in disbelief at the show, and Jenkins removed his gas mask in an attempt to clear his vision. He revealed a slightly pudgy face with the smatterings of a beard, a full mustache blooming above his upper lip. Curly dark hair sat on top of his head, cut short to follow army regulations. Yakob calmly removed his and whistled. Curtis looked up suddenly, trying to cover up the M-240 with his body as they looked on.

"What?" he asked indignantly, his own mask off. His face was a bit thinner than most, and a patch of hair on his chin were the only signs of a beard on his face. His dark hair was cut short in a crew cut, and his fierce eyebrows were furrowed in a frown.

"Just checking on you, Curtis." Tex said in a deadpan voice, then turned to the other two and made a shooing motion. They caught then drift, and both turned to leave, snickering as they did so.

Jenkins and Yakob walked out the room, leaving the other two alone. Tex glared at Curtis as she slid up behind him, riot shield at the ready. She pushed it forward roughly, causing Curtis to lurch forward. He turned around with anger in his eyes.

"Stop hitting me with that thing damn you." He snarled, his teeth glinting in the glow of the next room's lights.

Tex ignored him and walked back into the control room, turning on the microphone in hopes that she could record this for future memories. Unknown to her, it wasn't linked to a recording device but the intercom system. Curtis followed her out shoulders bunched and frown present.

"What the fuck is your problem with me?" Tex asked sharply, speaking a little louder for the microphone.

"My problem? What's your problem with me?" He demanded hotly, stepping closer to her.

"You're an idiot pervert, you have no respect for women. And to top it off, you went ape shit on that zombie out front, and then went straight to cuddling with a heavy machine gun!"

"You have nothing on me; your problems are nothing. I have a crazy psycho woman after me with no restraint and a very belligerent riot shield. And about the zombie outside..." He trailed off, and her expression turned to one of concern. He looked away, not meeting her eyes. She tried to make eye contact, but his green orbs roamed the room.

"My first encounter with the infected was when a man killed my little brother, tried to eat him. The little boy we saw today reminded me of it." Curtis said apologetically. He hung his head in shame, almost as if he expected a reprimand. Tex reached out towards his cheek, but he shied away. For some reason, that instinctive motion hurt her.

Loud sounds cut off Tex's reply, and she turned to stare at the security cameras. Many hundred infected where streaming towards the station from all directions, drawn by their little heart-to-heart. Lawing ran into the room and glared at the screen, followed closely by Jenkins and Yakob. He switched into tactical mode instantly, his face setting into a grim frown.. He looked into the other room and pointed at a rack toward the rear of the area.

"Yakob, grab one of those 240's and protect the front. Jenkins, do the same thing, but for the platform. Tex, you're up front. Curtis, cover the side entrance. I'm going to the roof." They all nodded as one and split up accordingly, Yakob and Jenkins dashing into the generator room, and Tex and Curtis out into the hallway. Lawing turned toward the opposite wall, where a ladder and a hatch led to the upper area.

Lawing ascended the ladder quickly to find himself in a tram control room turned sniper nest. He smirked at the convenience and unslung his M-21 sniper rifle. With a quick jab, he smashed a window out with the butt of his rifle. Down below, Tex stood next to the front entrance, riot shield in one hand and her P90 in the other. And roughly sixty yards ahead of her, a rather large swarm of infected.

Lawing sighted up on the first one he saw; a rather frail looking woman clad in just a black tank top and some orange pajamas. Just before he squeezed the trigger, he heard Curtis over the radio.

"Jesus Christ, they're all over the place!" (Here, I was thinking the quote from Nacht der Untoten's trailer from World At War, which is owned by Treyarch.)

Merc Inc here Ch. 3 is now done and edited.


	5. Trouble on the Rails

Chapter Four: Trouble on the Rails

Music: **Undead** by Hollywood Undead

Mercy City, suburb of Chicago

Oct. 26th 0234 Hours 02:34 AM local

Lawing lightly squeezed the trigger, and his M-21 jumped in his hands, driving upward and into his shoulder. Far away, a sprinting male infected clad in overalls and a ball cap fell to the pavement, half of his skull obliterated. Lawing released a breath and drew another in as he aimed at another infected, a fat aristocrat. He squeezed the trigger, and a round shot towards the fat man in a business suit missing a sleeve. The rifle round blew his brains, icor, and skull, as well as the spent bullet, into the short teacher-like infected behind him, snapping her already broken arm clean off. The woman ignored the wound and continued her furious dash toward the tram station.

Lawing worked left to right; sighting, breathing, and firing, scoring hit after hit on the infected. He sighted on a construction worker wearing a protective hard hat, and lowered his aim accordingly. The round punched through the man's jugular, and carried on to blast the skull of a second infected apart as well. _He thought two for one._ He squeezed off the last round in his magazine and pressed the release button above the trigger guard. The empty magazine fell out of the well and he grabbed the empty container and stashed it into a pouch at his thigh. Just under said pouch, he rooted around inside to find a full magazine. He slid the full mag home with practiced and almost mechanical efficiency, racked the bolt back, then returned his eye to the ACOG sight. With a calm and emotionless look on his face, Lawing continued to fire at the infected, scoring hits repeatedly and killing one or more zombies with each shot. Elsewhere, the other survivors were slaughtering their undead enemies with extreme prejudice. Some more than others...

Curtis cackled madly as his SAW spat death at the infected. He swiveled the weapon on a short wall that was outside the entrance, the attached tripod deployed to steady his aim. He locked on to a swarm of zombies and shot a burst of fire toward them.

In the M-240 user manual, it is made extremely clear that one shoot in bursts. Sustained fire causes the barrels on these beautiful machines of death to overheat and eventually melt. To combat this unfortunate mishap, instructors taught that the SAW should have a catch phrase: something the gunner can say to himself to time each burst correctly. So as to make their intent clear, the instructors had created the phrase, _Die, Motherfucker, DIE, _to follow the burst rule. And it was this phrase that Curtis howled at his vict- err, enemies.

"Die, Mother fuckers, DIE!" He yelled maniacally, and the accompanying burst of fire cut off any chance of response that the infected could give. Not that they could speak anyway.

"Die Mother fuckers, DIE!" _Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!_

An audible click signaled the end of his ammunition belt, and Curtis let the stock fall to brace against his gut as he reached for another belt of ammo. The barrel of the SAW started to glow a reddish hew as he flipped up the top and loaded the full belt into the weapon, tossing the empty one to the side. He would reload it later, when there was extra time, but not now; it was a distraction and in the way. He slammed the top down and racked the bolt with a satisfying _clack_, then continued to fire. The fresh rounds welcomed the next crowd to approach him with biting pain and instant oblivion.

He sighted a short woman in a dress and fired, the rounds punching neat holes into her abdomen. Shrieking, she curled up and fell to the ground. He swung the weapon at another infected, firing as he did so. The arc of fire cut into more infected as the weapon aligned with its next target: a large body builder clad only in tight-fitting jogging pants. Bite marks adorned his arms, neck, and body, still oozing large quantities of blood. Curtis fired another burst, and a tracer round hit the buff zombie first. The hot round smoldered and burned the flesh in his stomach, causing him to fall into the ground with blood coming up out of his mouth. With a strangled gurgle, he slumped into the gutter. And still, more came behind him.

Tex sighted an infected with her P-90 and squeezed the trigger, and the short weapon spat death at the skinny male infected twenty feet from her. The 9mm rounds ripped into him with the intense effect of hollow point ammunition, creating bigger holes in his vulnerable flesh. She swept her weapon to the right, firing into a old lady infected still clutching a purse. The old crone's chest caved in by the force of the round tearing chunks of meat through her and into a lamp post behind her.

Curtis swung his weapon to the right and fired into a knot of close-knit infected in prisoner garb. Chains connected them together as they all tried to reach the others, but their singular efforts only stalled the group as a whole, tripping each other up and pulling each other down.. His rounds cut through one and continued through the others, killing most and wounding others as the bullet finally lodged into the remnants of a body lying by a storefront twenty yards from the gang. He laughed as he swung the weapon back to the left, the stuttering fire cutting into more infected. He noted with small concern that the last several shots went wide, meaning that he was firing in longer bursts and causing the barrel to overheat. _An easy remedy,_ Curtis thought to himself as he reached behind him for his canteen. With a flourish, the warrant officer untwisted the cap and splashed some water onto the red-hot barrel of the SAW, sending hot steam up into the air. The barrel hissed as it cooled back to a black color, and he continued to fire.

Lawing ejected another spent magazine and slotted a fresh one in, racking the bolt afterwards. He fired again into the now thin horde, splitting a head open and watching the bullet ricochet into a infected's leg and causing him to stumble. He fired at the downed zombie and took the infected's eye out with the precision of a trained marksman. Lawing's mind drifted back a memory of marksmanship training.

_Lawing sighted the paper target and squeezed the trigger. The large M-16 slammed into his shoulder. He flipped the safety on as he ejected the half-used clip from the weapon and moved upright, still on his knees. He looked down range at the targets and smiled. The majority of his shots had hit center mass, except for the few he aimed at the head. He walked down the range after the all clear was called and looked at his shots._

_The majority, as he thought, were center mass. One of the head shot ones was odd. He laughed; it was dead center of the eye. He picked up the target and folded it up, then put it into a breast pocket. Satisfied, he smiled at others around him, all sighing at their targets. None had come close to his accuracy. _

Lawing snapped out of the past as he heard a gurgle sound as a straggler came to the party. The infected was extremely fat, his shirt ridding up as he stomach bulged. Dirty black hair hid his left eye from Lawing's view, while the right was swollen shut by the close proximity of a hideous boil on his face. Similar boils and warts seemed to cover the portly man, and Lawing almost gagged at the appearance. It was such an _ugly_ creature; it just had to die. He looked through the ACOG scope and squeezed the trigger. The round hit the infected at the center of his large stomach with a splash of a mysterious green-brown liquid. The fat man curled up slightly into a ball, and then exploded. Blood and guts rained down onto the corpses of infected, some bits even landing on the still madly cackling warrant officer. Lawing flinched at the explosion's wet plopping sound.

Curtis was looking at the mass of corpses when the fat man came into view. He laughed again. His SAW was cooling off, but he knew Lawing had the fat bastard marked and targeted. Sure enough, he chuckled as the fat man exploded, raining guts down on him as well as the corpses. The wet plopping sound was odd, he thought to himself as he brushed off the pieces of meat and fat that had landed on him. After the fat man had successfully covered the battle, Curtis scanned the area for any surviving zombies. No corpse met his gaze, or at least, none that walked. He walked out of cover and towards the exploded fat man.

Tex was watching the street as she saw Curtis move towards the fat man. He stood over the grimy stump as she heard another sound. She swung her P-90 towards it, but lowered it upon seeing Jenkins and Lawing walking towards her. She sighed in relief as they waved. She walked a little farther ahead, and they joined Curtis at the corpse. Lawing stared intently at the corpse, as did Jenkins and Curtis.

"Any ideas on what this thing is?" Lawing asked curiously, and he nudged the undead's foot with his own.

"No clue, sir. My guess, it's some sort of mutation." Jenkins said lazily, before digging into his pocket.

"You're the science officer here; explain the explosion." Curtis said indignantly, as he brushed off a few more chunks of dead fat guy. Jenkins pulled out a box of cigarettes and a lighter, and soon had one lit and clamped between his lips. The sergeant took two long drags, then breathed out a long stream of smoke. He sniffed the air quietly, then snorted.

"Judging by the smells, I'd say methane and sulfur, and maybe nitrogen." He said wearily, then took another long drag.

"A walking bomb." Curtis summed it up nicely. He sidestepped away from the sergeant, eyeing the lit cigarette. "You sure you should be smoking with that thing there?"

"The reaction has already happened. The remaining gases are too diluted to set off another explosion." Jenkins said reassuringly. Curtis still kept his distance.

"What caused it?" Lawing asked sharply. He knelt and stuck his finger in the center of the gel-like mass, coming away with more of the green-brown bile.

"Infection might have messed with the body's digestive system, causing the production of this crap." Jenkins said slowly. He seemed to enjoy the attention.

Lawing rubbed the goo between his fingers, then wiped it on the trousers of a dead old man lying nearby.

"This goo is just like the stuff we found on those infected back in the alley." Lawing said, "so this wasn't just a fluke."

"So this thing, or one like it killed those infected with what?" Curtis pondered out loud.

"Vomiting maybe, or leaving a trail that's toxic to the virus, maybe. Not enough data to be sure." Jenkins whispered around his dying cigarette. "The goo is probably the liquid version of what ever made him swell like a balloon, and is probably flammable as hell." As he said this, he took the cigarette from his mouth and tapped the ashes from the end. The group's eyes followed the ashes as they landed in the goo. A small spark ignited, then extinguished itself. Theory proven.

"So the goo is burnable as fuel?" Curtis again.

"That's what I just said." Jenkins replied sardonically, scooping some into a old bottle.

"We could use that for fuel if we find a Humvee. Or as a Molotov Cocktail if we need one."

"We need to get on the move. There are a few hours before sunrise and we need to reload and clean our weapons." Lawing said loudly.

"That store room had a lot of ammo in it, we can use that." Curtis said cheerily. He pointed back toward the station with his thumb, and the others nodded in agreement.

"Let's go." Lawing said, walking back towards the station.

The group moved back inside and down the hallway and into the store room.

"Check your clips and reload the spent ones. Tex, that's double for you. We can switch clips if we have to, but you only have a few of those."

"Alright, Lieutenant." Tex said stoically as she removed the spent clips and started reloading them.

Lawing sat down and grabbed his M-21 clips and laid them down and started cleaning them. He removed the 7.62MM rounds and started cleaning inside the clips. He worked some oil into the spring as well. He reloaded the rounds and grabbed a box out of his vest, opening it and putting the rounds into the 20 round magazine. He finished and put them back into the vest and threw the box into a nearby garbage can. He put the M-21 in front of him and started taking it apart. He removed the barrel and started using a cleaning rod moving it up and down the barrel removing gunk and old powder that had accumulated their.

He put the barrel back and started working on the action. Removing more gunk and putting oil back onto the parts. He finished and re assembled the weapon and set it aside grabbing his M-4 and removing the clip, repeating the process that he did for his M-21 and finishing it with a flourish of racking the bolt. He reloaded the magazines with practiced ease. When that was done he returned them to his vest and pockets.

Lawing pulled out his Remington 470 and started working on. Checking the shells and shining the wooden for grip. He returned it back to his back and slung his M-21 next to it as well. He stood and looked at the rest of the group most where finished except for Curtis how was lovingly working on his SAW.

"Everyone ammo count. Tex, tell us how much ammo you have for what weapon." Lawing ordered.

"150 rounds for my P-90, Riot Shield, and that's it." Tex spouted off.

"450 rounds for my M-4, 234 rounds MP-5, and crowbar." Jenkins.

"550 rounds M-4, 5 rockets RPG." Yakob.

"350 rounds M-4, 34 Shells, 108 rounds M-9s, and 300 rounds for my SAW." Curtis mumbled distractedly. He rubbed the M-240 lovingly and started talking to it again. The others ignored his antics.

"480 rounds M-4, 200 rounds M-21, 17 shells, 45 rounds M-9. Good, we have enough for a while. Conserve ammo where you can and grab any you find. We are going to need it. And Curtis is the only one keeping the SAW; we don't need anymore." Lawing said. The others nodded, Jenkins albeit grudgingly as he set the light machine gun down. Almost as one, they stood up and exited the room.

The platform had a few dead on it from Jenkins' SAW. They hopped down onto the rails and started walking south, towards the base. Walking along the outer rail, Lawing's head was on a swivel, looking for any infected that might try and hop the fence.

"So... what are going to call that fat guy we saw if there are any more of them?" Jenkins asked, trying to make conversation.

"Fat men?" Curtis offered. Before anyone else could reply, Tex slapped him over the head.

"Doesn't fit. Boomers?" Lawing threw out. The others weighed it, and there were mixed results all around.

"Wrong name, sounds too weird." Tex said looking bored.

"It's better than exploder." Curtis said cheekily, earning himself another slap.

"So Boomer it is, then?" Lawing asked, and he got nods all around.

"I guess so." Jenkins said lazily, before lighting another cigarette.

The group walked that last few meters in peace until they reached the next station. Lawing hauled himself over the top of the wall. The wall was close to the station and separated the street from the rails instead of a fence. He fell onto the street and waited for the rest of the group. They fell one by one onto the street and they continued towards the base. Lawing checked his map under a street light and checked the time.

"We've got two hours until sunrise and we're three blocks from the base." Lawing said as he put his map up.

The road was clear of infected, though bodies littered it. Corpses of all shapes and sizes lay in the street, some of them bloating from decomposition, while others had been scavenged by either wild animals or infected. A few laid in cars and looked like they had died there trying to drive. A chain link fence separated two roads through a intersection. Lawing walked up to it and produced his wire cutters and cut the fence lose at one corner. Rats scurried away as they walked past full trashcans. They turned a corner and saw the library in the distance.

They crossed the distance quickly; no infected tried to greet them as they crossed the last road and moved towards the base. The library was fortified with steel welded windows and the doors where open, which didn't look fortified at all. All appearances of docile abandonment flew out the window, almost literally, as a bullet nearly split Curtis' dome. The group scattered and found cover behind whatever they could: buildings, cars, etc. Jenkins dove behind a mailbox and yanked his radio out of his vest.

"Sniper, this is Staff Sergeant Jenkins! You are firing on non-infected humans! Cease firing immediately, over!" he yelled into the radio's mouthpiece.

"Staff Sergeant, repeat last transmission." A cool voice came through the radio.

"We are not infected. Over." Jenkins replied.

"State your Identification. Over."

"Roger that, this is Assassin 1 Actual. Over."

"Roger that. Proceed through the doors."

Lawing stood up slowly, wary of any double cross as the group proceeded towards the door with great caution. The doors where open but the hallway was blocked by a barricade, manned by two .50 cal machineguns and their gunners. Each one had his gasmask on and was keeping his gun aimed at the group.

Jenkins broke the silence first. "It's good to see you guys."

The gunner on the left replied uneasily. "Yeah, it is. Come on through."

The group went past the guards and into the main part of the library. They quickly discovered why the library had been chosen. Shelf after shelf had been raided of books, and each one had been committed to a fire or other means of use. Along with the plentiful tinder, nearly every door in the building was solid oak and easily defendable. People where milling about and looking at the group as they walked. The library had been turned into a makeshift barracks, as people slept on racks, the floor and even on overturned cases. Several soldiers looked at them with contempt. A few officers nodded to Tex, who nodded back.

A man with short red hair was walking around taking notes. He checked his list, then walked over to a man with short brown hair and an orange skull cap as well as a large set of radio equipment. The two exchanged words for a minute, then separated just as quickly. The man walked towards the group and asked them a question.

"You the guys we just let in?"

"Yes, my name is Lieutenant Lawing. We need to see who ever is in charge here, Private."

"Yes sir, and it's Simmons, sir." he replied.

Simmons led them to a staircase and motioned for them to follow. They ascended the stairs and walked along a walkway towards an office. Simmons knocked and waited.

"Enter." came a gruff reply. It sounded Texan, an apparently whoever had spoken hadn't suffered from the same accent decline as Tex had.

Simmons opened the door to reveal a man looking over papers on his desk. The tight, cluttered office was relatively bright, though its only source of light was a lying candle near the edge of his desk. A shotgun lay next to the man's papers. The Major had light gray hair, grey eyes, and his sleeves rolled up.

"Sir, these soldiers are not infected, and they want to talk to you." Simmons said stiffly.

"Let them in." he said, looking up.

Lawing entered first, then everyone else did.

"You can drop your pots." he said as he sat down in his chair.

Everyone removed their helmets and held them as they waited for the Major to speak. The minutes passed slowly the Major looking over the maps and papers on his desk, slowly fingering the shotgun. Lawing decided to break the silence by saying something.

"Sir, my name is Lieutenant Lawing, 131st Infantry. Are there any orders on the net?"

"No new ones, but there is a high priority mission. A scientist is missing and we need to find him. According to command, he has a sample of a cure for the virus. I've sent several squads after him already, but none have returned. Since you have been out there, I can only assume that you will have better luck." The Major said gruffly.

Lawing pondered for a second, then nodded resolutely.

"Consider it done, sir."


End file.
